Together
by Fangirldemigodwitch
Summary: After the mess left by the war, they found time to love again


After the war, Harry and Ron had instantly joined the Auror Training Class, insisting that if they didn't train then they wouldn't join, against Kinglsey's protests that they had proven they were perfectly capable Aurors already. Hermione had found her parents, insisting that neither Ron nor Harry join her because it "would be difficult enough explaining what had happened, let alone add a boyfriend to the mix," and then returned to Hogwarts to complete her N.E. . Ginny had joined the Harpies as their new Chaser, insisting to her mother that she couldn't return to Hogwarts after the events that had occurred there and that she didn't need a Divination N.E.W.T to be a Quidditch player.

Everything fell into place, funerals were happy, they celebrated the life that was lived and refused to be sad, for everyone that passed died for a better future. It was only at three of the far too many funerals that Harry cried. At Remus' and Tonks' funeral, who were buried side by side next to Lily and James' grave at Godrics Hollow, where he mourned for the true friends, professor and Marauder that he lost. He had made sure that Sirius had a memorial between the joint graves; a marble replica of his tall frame, his face perfectly carved with his mischievous smile that always landed him in trouble at school and at his feet his Animagus form curled up. And finally Harrys' mind at peace to know that the Marauders were together at last. At Fred Weasleys' funeral, where a beautiful array of fireworks lighted the night sky and stories were shared, remembering pranks and pulls made by the lost twin. And at Colin Creevys' funeral, where he stood at the back of the mourners, memories floating in his mind about the boy he knew with the camera in his hand. When everyone had left, he pulled from his pocket a moving picture of him and Colin laughing whilst watching Hermione and Ron play wizard chess and placed in in between the flowers laid there.

Slowly their world recovered and rebuilt. Finally, they found time to love each other.

Even though they both knew that they loved each other way before, they took their time to fall in love again. They weren't the type to make it known to the world, but everyone knew it was going to happen. They were only the type to tell each other between the sheets on their bed, privately and as though it was a secret.

Everyone watched them fall in love, they witnessed the hands brushing, stolen kisses behind the broom shed and secret glances across the dinner table. It wasn't until Ron and Hermione had married after a two year long engagement that they had announced that they were together and Charlie begrudgingly handed over what looked suspiciously like a handful of Galleons over to George.

He loved her. The way she would impatiently brush her hair from her face and finally tie it back, frustrated with the long mane, always made him smile and watch her face set in the way it always did when she played Quidditch made him remember their days at Hogwarts, memories that we untainted by horrors from the Carrows or the war. His heart fluttered when she leaned in close enough so he could count each individual freckle on her face when she went to place a sweet, and sometimes not so sweet, kiss on his lips.

She loved him. She loved the way he would scratch the back of his neck when he was tired, and she loved the way he would relax into her touch when she came up behind him, put her hands soothingly on his shoulders and whispered softly in his ear telling him to come up to bed and that "the damned paperwork can bloody well wait Potter". How he would occasionally forget to add ink to his quill and look at it in confusion momentarily when it wouldn't write anything down made he laugh and playfully push his arm in the direction of the ink pot. Or the way his eyes crinkled when he smiled and his head fell back when he laughed was an instant trigger for a Snitch to casually start to flutter in her stomach and turn her legs into mush.

They fitted each other perfectly. When they sat on the sofa, her legs could drape over his with his hand gently on her knee, rubbing soft circles with his fingers. Their fingers would interlock when they held hands and their thumbs would casually play against each other. How she would always hold his left hand whilst he held Teddy against his right hip as they took him to the top of the hill by the Burrow. They would always resolve fights with passionate kisses and words of love. Years ago when James and Lily Potter were still alive they joked that the Potter men had a thing for red heads, seeing as James' father and his father and his father had all seemed to wind up with one, all of whom could equally terrify, render speechless, inspire great acts of love (Great-great-grandfather Potter would never have admitted it, but yes he did buy great-great-Grandmother Potter a single rose for everyday he knew her, which accounted for the mystery 23010 roses that appeared on her gravestone). One thing was for certain though; she was his and he was hers.


End file.
